


Need

by rockhoochie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Dean Winchester, Emotional Sex, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fluff, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockhoochie/pseuds/rockhoochie
Summary: Bowled-over by recent events, Y/N steals away an overwhelmed and despondent Dean. Nestled in a cozy cabin far from all the chaos, their deep love for one another is given a chance to breathe, strengthening the already profound bond between them.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> With everything Dean has been going through, I thought he deserved some comfort and security. Contains S13 and S14 spoilers.
> 
> I love hearing from you - let me know what you thought! And as always, thank you so much for reading!

The heavy smell of burning wood woke her from a blissfully dreamless sleep. She panicked for a second, until she remembered where she was. A peek out the bedroom window didn’t offer any indication of what time it was – light snowflakes floated down against a backdrop of leafless tress and an overcast sky. She heard Dean moving around in the kitchen, the scent of coffee seeping through the thin layer of smoke that must have escaped from the fireplace. Happy to know he was up and about, she stretched her way out from under a heavy, handmade patchwork quilt. She ruffled through her bag, pulling out a soft, long-sleeved shirt and pajama pants. This was a rare weekend away for them, and she wanted to just bask in the comfort of it for a few days.

Despite his insistence to the contrary, Dean needed a break – time away from all the strangers milling around the bunker, away from hunting, away from the constant reminders of what had happened while Michael had taken the wheel. He still hadn’t talked about it and she hadn’t pressed, but she knew Dean needed to escape. So, she’d called Donna, taking her up on the standing offer to use her cabin for a few days. Then she packed up the Coleman and a bag of clothes, told Dean that the two of them were checking out a possible Ghoul case in northern Wisconsin, and managed to drag him out from under a pyramid of dirty flannels and takeout boxes.

When she’d revealed her true intentions two hours into the drive, Dean acted like he hadn’t been thrilled with her deception. But he didn’t turn the Impala around.

They’d arrived at the cabin late, well after midnight. Once the heat and water had been turned on and they settled in, they simply fell into bed, nothing on their minds but sleep. She hoped Dean had gotten more than a few hours – she wasn’t even sure when he’d gotten up.

She shuffled her way down the hall to the bathroom and turned on the shower, eager to try and wash away the last few months, and excited to (hopefully) see Dean somewhat relaxed and content.

***

When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Dean lounging in a worn, high-backed leather chair in the living room, his socked feet resting on the coffee table in front of him. He looked uncharacteristically comfortable in black sweatpants pants and a wifebeater, cocooned by a beige and brown striped afghan that draped around his shoulders. An impressive blaze roared in the fireplace a few feet away from him and an old, hardcover copy of Vonnegut’s _Cat’s Cradle_ lay spread open in his lap.

“G’morning sunshine,” she yawned, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He chuckled. “Think you mean ‘good afternoon.’”

“What? What time is it?” She grabbed his wrist and peered at his watch. It was almost quarter to three. “Holy shit…”

She’d slept almost twelve hours. There was not one time in her adult life she remembered sleeping that much, barring a couple of knockouts or the that time she’d been caught in a witch’s spell years ago. She’d meant to wake up before him, go into the nearest town and pick up some more food for breakfast, more booze to wash it down with.

“Hey,” Dean said gently, placing his book on the table and his hand on her cheek, “you obviously needed it.”

“But this was supposed to be a break for you. Did you sleep? Dammit, _I’m_ supposed to make the coffee and build the fires and cook breakfast and – “

“C’mere,” he sighed, sliding his feet off the table and pulling her into his lap. “I got a full six hours. And you have done plenty, okay? I mean, all that time entertaining mom, keepin’ an eye on Jack, makin’ sure all those other hunters got settled, tryin’ to reign Sammy in. And gettin’ me out of the bunker, out here where there’s no tv or goddamn internet, convincing me – well, tricking me- into letting it all go for a while…Christ, Y/N, you’re amazing.” He grabbed her hand. “And you have no idea how much you’ve done for me and I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough. I got no doubt that being with me is exhausting. So as far as I’m concerned, Sleeping Beauty, you earned every damn minute of that shut-eye.”

She laughed. “Fair enough, I guess.”

Dean’s nose nuzzled the crook of her neck as he tightened his hold on her. “Besides,” he hummed, dotting her skin with warm, soft kisses, “it’s just you and me for the next few days. You still have plenty of opportunities to take care of me.”

She kissed the top of his head, breathing in the scent of him. He’d already showered, the fruity essence of the shampoo and soap that Donna had in the bathroom fading underneath his own – oaky and leathery, clean musk and cotton with the slightest hint of gun and engine oil that would never completely fade. It felt so good to be close to him like this again, to have him solid and sturdy beneath her.

They hadn’t had sex since he’d gotten back, not since shortly before Michael had taken him for a joyride. All the panic and grief and anger, then all of the relief and joy combined with all of the tears that had flooded her soul had drained her, physically and emotionally. Dean’s nights had been plagued with bad dreams, nightmares that had him writhing and shouting until they poured out of him in a cold sweat that left him shaking. She’d simply hold him, tucking his large frame against her chest as he caught his breath, holding on to her arm tightly until sleep claimed him once more.

Part of her worried they were drifting apart. But deep down she knew no love had been lost, that he needed her more than ever. So she didn’t push him, confident that they’d find their way back to that aspect of their relationship in due time.

But now, nestled in his arms and cradled in his closeness, hidden in a cozy place tucked far away from anyone or anything, the ache to be even closer to him swelled in her abdomen. She shifted from her place in his lap and straddled him, cupping his stubbled jaw in her soft hands. Her lips parted, prepared to ask him if he was sure, if he was ready. But she didn’t need to speak. The look in his eyes - a kaleidoscope of apology and gratitude, of hunger and need, of wonder and pure love, all tinted deep forest green and lacquered with the threat of tears - told her everything she needed to know…

_Please._

_I’ve missed you._

_I’ve missed us._

_Make me forget._

_Let me make you forget._

_I’m so sorry._

_I need you._

_I love you._

In a heartbeat, his arms wound around her, one hand splayed over the middle of her back, the other tucked against her head as he drew her in. Dean’s full lips pressed against hers gently, catching hers in languid, open-mouthed kisses. It was almost like the first time, as though he was just discovering the softness of her mouth against his, trying to recall a well-practiced movement he was afraid he’d forgotten.

He remembered soon enough, nibbling her bottom lip before tracing it with his tongue. She let him in with a quiet moan, instantly intoxicated as their tongues rolled and twisted together, finding that perfect rhythm that could never be lost between them. Warmth rushed through her, the sweet taste of coffee, whiskey and cool peppermint feeding a craving she hadn’t acknowledged she’d had. Her fingers combed through his hair, her body rocking against his as the kiss intensified, butterflies flitting in her gut as her pulse quickened. He was hard already, his erection brushing against her covered sex as he devoured her, kissing her as though his very existence depended on it, as if his world would fall to shambles again if he let her go.

Dean choked back a whimper as she deliberately slid along his length, pressing herself as close to him as she could with each breath they shared. His fingertips fumbled for the hem of her t-shirt, quickly gathering the material and urging it up her torso. They broke apart, flushed and panting as she pulled it over her head. Dean quickly followed suit, tugging the thin white cotton from his chest before crashing back into her with a bruising, ravenous kiss.

The feel of her flushed, bare skin against his sent her reeling. Dean swallowed every small sound that she breathed, crafting them into a low, desperate moan that rumbled from his chest. She was dripping wet, hot arousal gathering between her legs with each pass of Dean’s tongue along hers. Need drove her to break away from his kiss, to shift her center over his thick thigh and drag her throbbing clit against it, the friction of the fabric hot and rough in all the right ways. She held onto his shoulders as she threw her head back, giving Dean the opportunity to nip and suck at her pulse while he held fast to her rocking hips. One of his hands wandered to her breast, thumb brushing across the stiff peak of her nipple. She rode him harder, faster, the tension building quick and steady in her core. Plush lips swept along the column of her neck, blunt teeth catching her earlobe as Dean’s warm breath hissed against her skin.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he murmured, “come for me… please…”

Dean’s plea flipped the switch inside of her, the knot in her belly snapping as she came with a cry. Her moans and whimpers were quickly muffled as Dean’s mouth covered hers again, breathing in her every sigh as she came down, her body quivering against his.

His lips found their way back to the soft flesh of her neck, his heavy hand tangling in her hair and cradling her cheek, the tip of his thumb stroking her chin. She held on as she felt herself being lifted, feeling the muscles of his back roll beneath her finger tips, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He only walked a few long strides before sinking to his knees and laying her on a soft, thick rug that lay in front of the fireplace.

Dean immediately slotted himself between her open legs, hooking his fingers along the waistband of her pants. She raised her hips as he slid them off of her, never once taking his eyes away from hers as he did. The way he gazed at her was something she hadn’t experienced in what felt like an eternity. He surveyed her every feature, every flat and curve of her body with a look of awed reverence, like he was etching her form into memory. There was a whisper of sadness behind his eyes though, something reminiscent of unworthiness and regret.

Fear.

She reached for him, pulling him closer.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean. I’m here. Always,” she whispered.

Her promise earned her another deep, all-consuming kiss that nearly made her head spin. Dean’s hands began to wander as he shifted to lay on his side, propped up on one elbow while his thick fingertips feathered across her body. His touch danced along her collarbone, over her breasts and stomach, down to the apex of her thighs. She arched her back in silent invitation as his hand slipped between her legs, one finger sliding along her folds before breaching her soaked entrance.

A growl formed in his throat as he slid another finger inside of her, her hot, slick cunt clenching around him.  Dean began fucking her slowly, leisurely sliding back and forth, plunging deeper until she arched off the floor with a cry of pleasure. He was on her in an instant, taking one breast and then the other in his mouth, licking and sucking and nibbling each nipple as his fingers worked her pussy. She trembled beneath him, every muscle taut with anticipation, desperate to be unraveled again.

His plush lips left her breasts and began a careful descent down her sternum, over her navel and beyond until his hot breath fanned against her clit. Dean’s tongue flicked at the hardened bud, swirling, flattening and pointing as his fingers continued to move deep inside of her. Y/N was writhing beneath him, her body breaking out in a sheen of sweat as Dean pushed her steadfastly toward the edge. Gently worrying her clit between his teeth, he deliberately stroked at her g-spot until she was coming hard, her slick trickling down his hand. She wailed his name as he kept going, replacing his tongue with the pad of his thumb, circling her clit fast until she was coming again, squirting on his chest.

Unable to hold back any longer, he withdrew his fingers and shimmied out of his sweatpants. Perched on his knees, he fisted his long hard cock, giving it a few strokes before sliding it through the soaked folds of Y/N’s pussy. She gripped his biceps, pushing herself down and up against his cock, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of her.

Again, Dean’s jade gaze hypnotized her as he pushed the head of his cock inside of her. He pulled back but not out, giving her another inch with each pass until he was fully sheathed in her wet heat. Y/N’s walls pulsed around his thick length, gripping and pulling him tight as he began to move, his moans accompanying hers in perfect harmony.

Dean was shaking, mouth agape and breaths heavy as he made love to her.

“Don’t…don’t ever leave,” he stammered, each weak syllable punctuated with a roll of his hips. “Need you…love you so much, Y/N, god I love you…”

She knew he was holding back – it had been so long and she didn’t want nor expect him to last. She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into the backs of his thighs and met his slow thrusts with fervor. He gave in and leaned down, brushing his parted lips against hers as his thrusts gained momentum.

The tenderness and emotion, the feeling of being home again in his arms, their bodies moving in tandem as though they were one…it was sending her well on her way to another orgasm. She didn’t care if she got there or not – all she knew was she needed to watch _him_ fall apart; She needed to see his eyes clamp shut and his face twist into bliss as he came undone beneath her.

She pushed against his shoulders, urging him to turn over and let her ride him. He remained locked inside of her as they rolled with impossible grace, Y/N lacing her fingers through his as she took him deep. The angle set his thick cock right against her sweet spot, igniting the hot, glowing embers of her climax. When Dean’s thumb found her clit again, pressing and circling, it set it ablaze.

“ _Dean_ …” she whimpered, riding him faster, surrendering herself to every sensation coursing through her body. It all culminated into one bright flash of white light and she let go, milking Dean’s cock as he furiously thrust up into her. He came with a primal yell, pumping her full of his come until his movements slowed and faltered.

He pulled himself up, gathering her in his arms and they floated together, his lips finding hers once their breaths softened and heartbeats steadied. Dean hissed as Y/N gently pulled herself away, his come dripping down his softened cock. She lay on her back and beckoned him to join her, inviting him to rest his head on her chest as she ran her fingernails along his scalp. Then everything hit her all at once, a wave of emotion that she couldn’t even begin to identify or pick apart, something so intense and staggering that it could only be expressed with a shaky breath and a teardrop.

“Hey,” Dean muttered, glancing up at her. “You okay?” His eyes shone verdant and sated, his long lashes matted with tears he hadn’t let fall.

“I’m more than okay, Dean,” she smiled. “I’m more okay than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He propped himself back up to give her a kiss. “Everything is perfect. You’re perfect,” he said, sweeping the hair away from her eyes. “And no matter what, _we_ will always be perfect.”

Dean sat up and rolled his shoulders, a sudden laugh erupting as he glanced toward Y/N’s feet.

“What?” she asked, “What’s so funny?”

He pointed to the edge of the rug, at the head of the poor bear whose pelt they lay on. “Dude, we just made love on a bear-skin rug in front of a fire. Awesome.”

Y/N couldn’t help but echo his laughter. “Now that,” she beamed, “is absolute perfection.”

**_~Fin~_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr!](https://rockhoochie.tumblr.com)


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